Winter's Son
by callofhonor
Summary: He could not remember his name. Then one day... one of his targets said a name he knew was his. TWS one-shot with potential for more.
1. Chapter 1

The target knew his name.

His mind was wrapped in darkness, but he could not remember the light. His heart was broken with grief, but he could not remember what he had lost. And so the only thing he felt and saw was anger. And the anger consumed him. It coursed through his veins and gave him purpose. He clung to his rage, for it was all he had.

There were very few he hated, but those who earned his hate would not have a chance to regret what they had done to him. He did not hate his targets or those unfortunate enough to find themselves caught between him and his targets. He felt nothing toward them. No, those he hated were those who washed his memories away.

They did it often—so often, in fact, that their technology wasn't as effective as it had been in the beginning. He could remember some things. He knew they wiped his brain periodically and that he wasn't supposed to be aware of this fact. Whether it was his body or his brain remembering though, he was not certain. Whenever he heard the order to start "with a clean slate", he automatically settled back in their chair and allowed himself to be contained there. The thought that they would kill him if he did not cooperate did not cross his mind, for he had nothing to lose if they killed him and nothing to gain if they did not. He simply did as he was told.

He had remembered for years now that he had possessed a name once, but try as he would, he could not see that name in his head. All he had were the names given to him by myths and legends. This angered him more than most things. He was capable of defeating anyone, no matter how he was armed or how many stood with him. He could take life without a thought. He had never showed mercy, and he had never failed, but _he could not remember his name_.

This target had spoken that one word that had evaded him so long. And somewhere deep inside him, he had felt something other than rage and hatred. He had felt the smallest sliver of hope. He had resolved that he would not forget that name, no matter how many times they took his memories. And so he settled in their chair, blocked out the pain, and held on to his name.


	2. Chapter 2

_I knew him_.

His first thought when he awoke alarmed him. He knew no one except his handlers. He didn't even know those who accompanied him on missions. The one name he remembered was that of the only man he took orders from: Pierce.

No. Now he remembered two names. _Bucky_.

The Winter Soldier glanced at those around him. The first ring of people near him had their weapons trained on him, their fingers resting just above their triggers. This did not bother him except that one of them was a novice and held his finger a bit too close to the trigger. The next ring was composed of those monitoring his response to the memory wipe. The third were people outside the cell watching him. _Always watching._

The first ring was of no matter, and the second and third rings normally did not matter either, but this time.. This time the Soldier concentrated on presenting the face he assumed he always did when they woke him. He let confidence and deadness and anger take over his features. He was an assassin, and his training, which always remained no matter how many times they erased his memories, told him that an assassin was calm and deadly.

_But I knew him_.

The Soldier felt an emotion skitter through him that he did not like. Confusion was _not_ something any assassin felt at any time. The moment confusion took hold of someone like the Soldier, he became vulnerable, exposed, and weak. He pushed the confusion away as they released his restraints and tried to hide his disgust as Pierce approached him.

Of all the men in the cell, the Soldier hated Pierce most. He did not know why he hated him—he could only say what he hated _about_ him. He hated the confidence Pierce exuded when ordering him to make a kill. He hated the way Pierce's wrinkles pulled at his eyes and mouth as he spoke. He hated the fact that Pierce could strike him if he so chose, _and that he was supposed to do nothing about it_.


	3. Chapter 3

She played with a button on her lab coat while she watched. Normally, she was not a nervous woman, but Alexander Pierce's presence in the cell put her on edge. She wondered if she was the only person who could see the contempt in the Winter Soldier's eyes whenever Pierce strutted into the room. Everyone put their faith into the memory implantation and cryogenic stasis to a fault, but she questioned if their effectiveness was as complete as they had first thought. She had been on the Soldier's team for almost five years, and he was changing when he was supposed to stay the same.

She had taken her concerns directly to Alexander several months ago, but he had dismissed her without looking at the notes she had painstakingly taken since she was hired. Since then she had studied the Soldier even more closely. There had been something in his eyes when they last woke him that frightened her. He had glanced at her, and she had seen knowledge written across his resolute face that should not have been there.

When Alexander strolled in, the Soldier's heart rate rose for a moment. She looked from the monitor to the Soldier, and the levels on the screen returned to normal. She bit her lip and wished for the first time that she had not been assigned to this particular cell with this particular assassin. He was the best. She had heard all the stories and rumors, and she was one of few who could say they were true. The Winter Soldier could calm the beat of his heart and mask any emotions he had learned over the decades. He could take the pain—she would call it torture—they put him through with more courage than she had imagined possible. He was never gone from his cell long because his missions never took long. He simply went out, killed his target, and returned. For him, it was easy.

But his eyes were burning as he listened to Alexander lay out his orders for the next mission. Although his metal arm did not move, his right hand quivered as if he was holding something back. She knew his agitation was not based on the fact that for the first time, he had failed a mission. He should not remember what Alexander had done to him for returning without having made the kill.

_He wants to kill Alexander_, she thought. _Of course he wants to kill him. Who wouldn't_? She almost wished he would. She did not want to be trapped in this cell with all these mercenaries any more than the Soldier did. As Alexander named the target, she sighed. She should warn him. He probably wouldn't listen, but she should at least try. Alexander was aware, of course, of the danger of being in the same room as the Winter Soldier, but he had paid no heed to her warnings the first time. She doubted Alexander realized that _he_ was the reason the Soldier's heart rate had spiked and that the eagerness to kill that the Soldier displayed was not connected to the death of his target. At least, not the target Alexander had in mind...


	4. Chapter 4

_He'll tell you that you know him_.

That one sentence flew through the Soldier's mind repeatedly as he waited for his mission. It was absurd that Pierce had warned him not to believe his target—no one outside HYDRA knew him. No one. The rest of the world wasn't even sure he was real. _Knowing_ implied familiarity or some sort of affinity. The Soldier was certain no one viewed him with a kind or sympathetic thought.

_He'll tell you that you know him._

He suddenly realized that he was scraping his metal fingers against the arm of his chair. He cringed inwardly at the noise and stopped, then leaned forward and traced the deep grooves he had apparently carved into the armrest over the years. He settled back, closed his eyes, and shoved Hope back into the darkness of his heart. No one cared about him, and he did not care.

She stepped forward as the Winter Soldier was released from his bonds. It was her duty to free his right arm, the one made of flesh. She had never touched him before, but this time, she leaned over his shoulder, felt his hair against her cheek, and brushed the skin of his wrist as she unlocked the shackle. As she pulled back, she whispered in his ear, "You _do _know him."

She straightened and glanced around to make sure no one had seen or heard. Everyone was busy with much more important things, and she smiled. The Winter Soldier stood and was immediately locked into body armor that rendered him almost invincible. She watched him, and he behaved as he always did, his movements a combination of strength and grace, saying nothing and looking at no one. As he was led out of the cell, he tilted his head, and his eyes rested on her for a moment. All she saw there was sadness.


	5. Chapter 5

"People are gonna die, Buck. I can't let that happen."

Captain Rogers was not one to hesitate, but as he stared at the Winter Soldier, another piece of his heart shattered. As if his inability to rescue Bucky Barnes the first time hadn't been enough. As if losing anything he had with Peggy Carter and every single one of his friends and his very generation hadn't taken a toll on him. Seventy years had changed the world entirely. Some would say that Steve hadn't been changed a bit by the decades he had missed, but Steve wondered. In the old days, he would have never told a lie, but what he was up against now forced him to keep the truth to himself. That hardly mattered now though. Natasha was right. The world had been painted gray while he slept frozen beneath the ice.

Steve did not want to fail Bucky again. The assassin before him was a shell of the friend he had known—a fierce, merciless shell. There was no recognition in Bucky's eyes. Steve cursed HYDRA in his head. What had they done to Bucky to make him this way? What had he suffered? While Steve had been safely asleep for seventy years, Bucky had been awakened over and over again, trained and used to do the blood work no one else wanted to do. Bucky's history had been written in red.

"Please don't make me do this," Steve tried again, but Bucky merely lowered his head with determination.

Steve rushed the Winter Soldier and fought his friend, his brother a second time. Bucky attacked savagely and quickly, almost as if his strategy wasn't clear in his mind. As if his emotions were getting in the way. Steve evaded Bucky's knife and realized that if Bucky's emotions really were surfacing, then maybe he could still be reached.


	6. Chapter 6

The noise was roaring in the Winter Soldier's ears, drowning his pain and feeding his rage. He was lost. He didn't know who he was. He knew he was being manipulated. He didn't want to have his memory wiped again. It hurt indescribably in the deepest part of his being. He didn't want to kill any more. He didn't know how many he had killed over the years, but he would give anything to wash the blood off his hands. He hated HYDRA and he hated Pierce and he hated himself, but he did not hate this man, his mission and his target. Apparently this target had completed his own mission by replacing the Helicarrier's controller chip and no longer cared about himself because _he had come back for the Soldier_. The man in blue could have escaped and left him pinned under that beam, but he didn't. He had managed to lift it high enough that the Soldier had squirmed out.

Now the Soldier attempted to gather his wits and his strength, but his target spoke. "You know me," he said, his voice tired and sad and barely audible over the explosions.

_I know him._

_He'll tell you that you know him. You don't know him, Soldier. You don't know anyone—how could he possibly know you?_

_But I know him._

_No one knows the Winter Soldier. He's a ghost. He doesn't exist. _

_I _do _exist!_

_Wipe him._

"No, I _don't_!" the Soldier screamed. He was weak, but he threw a punch into the man's face with his metal arm.

They were both gasping for air. The Helicarrier was slowly breaking apart, and the fires within its holds jealously consumed the oxygen. The man started to get up, and he spoke again. "Bucky... You've known me your whole life."

The Soldier growled and struck him again. He couldn't know him. He told himself he didn't _want_ to know him.

"Your name... is James Buchanan Barnes."

Conviction. The man spoke with such conviction. There were no lies in his eyes. _James Buchanan Barnes_. He gritted his teeth and realized that though the name filled him with the hope he craved, his mind and body were too weak to hold to the truth. His rage doubled. "_Shut up_!" he begged as he lashed out with his left arm again.

The man stumbled to his feet once more and tore away his mask. "I'm not gonna fight you," he said. He threw down his shield. "You're my friend."

Doubt filled the Soldier's heart. No one had ever called him friend. Except... there had been someone once that had been like a brother to him. The Soldier stumbled and tried to recall who that person had been, _but he could not remember_. Anything good he had once been or done had been taken from him long ago. Then he realized that he was no longer angry. He was wretched and without hope. He had nothing and was worth nothing, but if he made this kill, maybe Pierce would keep the handlers from wiping his memory this time.

With his goal clear before him, the Winter Soldier tackled his target and hissed, "You're my mission." Then he began beating the man in blue, willing him to fight back, wishing he had left him under that beam to die, crying inside for all he had lost. Just as he raised his metal arm to finish the man off, the target opened his mouth. He didn't ask for mercy. He didn't offer money in exchange for his life as so many had before.

"Then finish it," he said hoarsely. "'Cause I'm with you to the end of the line."

**Hey, guys! Thanks for reading! This has been fun-I had no plans to go much further than the first chapter, but it seems like a lot of people are enjoying this little story. So here we are! I love the reviews; they're what keep me writing. Please let me know if you want more and what you think should happen next. Thanks.**


	7. Chapter 7

He still couldn't quite remember, but he knew he had memories with this man. The words the target had spoken before the explosion sounded familiar. They had triggered something, and the Soldier found that he could recall three facts from his life before HYDRA—the man he was pulling to the riverbank was named Steve. They had fought a war together once. And just as Steve had fallen from the Helicarrier, the Soldier or Bucky or James or whatever his name was had fallen once too, a lifetime ago.

The Soldier glared down at Steve, saw that he was breathing, and debated whether or not he really wanted to save him. All he had to do was let go of him, and the river would pull Steve back into its embrace and quietly send him on into the next world. The Soldier would have completed his mission and could go on... _Go on what? Living_?! He scowled. He had not been living for years. He had nothing to lose but the Hell HYDRA had created for him.

As the Soldier dragged Steve ashore, he realized that he had not been as fortunate as Steve had been when he fell. He shoved the half drowned man to the ground and looked at him for a moment. While Steve had been recovered by someone who must have once been his friend, the Soldier had been collected by those with selfish intent. Steve would go on with his life. The Soldier's had been deconstructed and then put back together the exact way HYDRA had wanted. And now what did he have left but pieces? He bent, made sure Steve's pulse was strong, and walked away. If they really had been friends, at least one of them could go on. The world could be saved by a man named Captain America, but there was no one who could save the Winter Soldier.

She scrambled along the banks of the Potomac, searching madly. The group she was with searched as well, though they looked for someone else. She had attached herself to them anticipating that if they found Captain Rogers, she would find the Winter Soldier, and she had to get to him before anyone else did. Two bodies had been spotted falling from the Helicarrier, and Nick Fury had immediately sent out a crew to recover Rogers, dead or alive.

She ran ahead and dodged huge chunks of debris from the destruction of the Helicarriers. She despaired ever finding both Rogers and the Winter Soldier alive. Chances were good that the two had killed each other or gone down with the ship as they fought.

It wasn't long before Rogers was found, badly beaten and unconscious. She took one look at him and knew that the Soldier had spared him. If he had wanted Rogers dead, he would be. As a gurney was being brought down the embankment to the shore, she silently slipped further down the river.

By this time it was growing dark. Flames rose from various pieces of wreckage, both floating on the river and smashed into the earth. Some of the pieces were enormous, jagged things, and the orange glow from the fires cast an eery glow on the riverbank. She pulled out a small flashlight and continued forward.

**Greetings! I am open to ideas about what the doctor will discover when she finds the Soldier. If you were Bucky, what would be going through your head at this point? Please review, my faithful readers!**


	8. Chapter 8

She knew there would be no sneaking up on him and that she was risking her life in order to save his, but she was certain that he had grown weary of his assignments. She had grown weary of them too. Not only was she guilty of helping contain him, but she had also enabled him dozens of times to do as HYDRA wished by making sure his body was healthy and his mind was clean.

For an hour she walked along the Potomac, breathing heavily under the weight of the pack on her back, and following what she hoped were signs of the Soldier. Indeed, a foot print in the mud seemed to match the boots he wore. He had become sloppy, she noticed. After any other of his missions, she doubted she would have been able to track him, but he had left a steady trail of bent grass and broken cattails.

"Matthews."

She heard her name but had no time to react before she was jerked back against the man she hunted. His arm crushed into her neck. She could feel the objects in her pack pressing against her spine. "You know my name?" she managed to ask, frantically trying to loosen his grip.

"I've been trained for _years_ to pay attention to detail. Did you think your memory swipes would break me of that habit?" His voice was gravelly and cold, and he pulled his arm tighter.

Matthews was beginning to feel lightheaded. She closed her eyes to concentrate on breathing. "Mr. Barnes," she whispered. "Please let me go. I came to-" His grip tightened again, but he was shaking. "Tracking... device..." she choked out, clutching at his metal arm.

The Soldier instantly released her, and while Matthews fell to the ground, he simply sat down as if he was very tired. Matthews gasped for air, pushing herself to her hands and knees. She sat up and turned to look at the Soldier, wondering where her flashlight had gone. She could make out his silhouette, and his metal arm shining dully in the starlight. He had always exuded pride and confidence, but not now. He sat on the bank, his arms resting on his knees, his head lowered. His spirit was broken.

Unsure of what to do, Matthews scooted a little closer to him and sat there too. Finally, she said, "There's a tracking device planted in the arm HYDRA gave you."

The Soldier didn't move and didn't say anything.

"If you want to disappear," she offered gently, "I can help you remove it."

The Soldier lifted his metal arm and turned it, clenching and unclenching his fist. It was his greatest weapon which, of course, is why HYDRA had built the tracking device into it. Only a few knew of its existence and even fewer knew how to remove it. The possibility that anyone would _want_ to set the Winter Soldier free of his handlers had not been considered. Though it was dark, she sensed he was looking at her and could not help the shivers that ran up her back.

"I should kill you," he muttered at last.

"There's a lot of people you should kill... and many more that you shouldn't... Mr. Barnes."

Matthews heard the hydraulics in the metal arm reacting to the Soldier's impulse to strike her as his shoulder flinched, but he contained his wrath, leaped to his feet. and spat out, "_Don't call me that_!"

The instinct to cower before this warrior was strong, but Matthews rose as well. She had spent eight weeks in training when she was hired before HYDRA let her anywhere near the Winter Soldier's quarters. The first lesson she had been taught was about fear. _Do not let the Soldier see your fear._ The second was that you never ever gave him a reason to be irritated. In fact, if one of the assassin's handlers was ever witnessed demonstrating fear or agitating him (beyond, of course, the routine annoyances of mind wiping), he or she was immediately and permanently removed from the Soldier's team. So Matthews waited until she had replaced the fear in her heart with calm. "Let me help you," she said. 

**I have enjoyed writing this scene immensely. Reviews do wonders for a writers' soul! :) Thank you in advance for reading, and, to the three people who have reviewed chapters, I give you my double thanks!**


	9. Chapter 9

The shadow that was the Winter Soldier trembled, and he took a step back. "Get away from me," he whispered. "I have known only killing. I failed my mission and my desire to kill is strong."

Matthews withdrew several more feet but did not leave. Instead, she spotted her flashlight's beam in the reeds and retrieved it. She pulled off her pack and used the torch to sort through what she had gathered. "Brought you these. A jacket and a hat. Unless you want me to cut your hair. I could do that—I brought scissors." Then she pulled out a small tool kit, laid everything on a towel on the ground, and sighed. "I thought at first about detaching that whole HYDRA arm for you, but that would cause excruciating pain and probably permanent nerve damage. God knows..." She glanced sheepishly in the direction of the Soldier. "I've caused you enough pain already. Plus, running around with one arm would really draw HYDRA's attention where you don't want it. You wouldn't be very effective at defending yourself against anyone who comes after you. Oh, and..." She reached into her pack and produced a large bottle. "Water." She held it out to the Soldier, but he made no move. She tossed it toward him and was a little surprised when he picked it up, opened it, and took a drink.

"Yeah," she said, to know one in particular, "people forget you're real and that you need to eat and drink too. Sorry I didn't have any food to bring. Want me to take a look at that arm?"

Slowly, the Soldier crossed the distance between them and knelt before her. She knelt as well, as she was taught—_unless he is restrained or you are one of his armed guards, always put yourself on the same level as the Soldier. Do not elevate yourself in his presence. _Matthews remembered all the times Pierce had defied the rules, and she wondered if his death would be the first personal mission of the Soldier. She took up her torch, sorted through her tools, then directed the light at his shoulder, just above the red star. He wordlessly reached for the flashlight and held it in place while she worked.

Matthews operated for at least half an hour in complete silence. She had to remove several metal plates to get access to the area she needed, exposing the genius workings of the metal arm. As she sorted through various wires and structural components and located the tracking device, she pondered what she was doing.

Aurora Matthews, a thirty-one year-old woman with a doctorate from Yale was kneeling beside the Winter Soldier alone and in the dark. While she had been studying life and healing, he had experienced only death and isolation. He had learned his art long before she had been born, and HYDRA had pounded his training into him over and over until not one bit of it was erased when they toyed with his brain and his memories. He had every reason to kill her once she had removed the tracking device, for every time he was put into cryogenic stasis, every time he was awakened, every time his memory was wiped, _she_ was one of the people he saw. Matthews cringed while she worked and glanced up at the Soldier. The dim glow from the flashlight that caught his face made his features appear much softer than she was used to seeing. His jaw was bruised, and there was a wicked looking cut on his forehead, but there was nothing she could do about that. He held impossibly still while she worked, and even the arm that held the torch did not shake though he had been holding it up for quite some time. She looked back down as she used tweezers to ease the device out of the arm. She lifted it to the light between them, and for several seconds, they both stared at it. There was no emotion evident on the Soldier's face, but his green eyes seemed to spark with something, though she could not quite tell what. It almost looked like triumph, but Matthews guessed it was probably just spite.

"Now you're free," she murmured and offered him the chip.

Annoyance flickered across the Soldier's face, but he took the chip with his metal fingers and crushed it. "I will never be free," he said quietly. Then he took up his position holding the flashlight, and Matthews started replacing the first of the metal plates.

"Why?" the Soldier asked suddenly.

"Because I need redemption, and you need redemption."

"There are other ways to seek redemption than by making yourself a fugitive from HYDRA."

"I'm done with HYDRA."

"They'll search for you."

"I'd rather have HYDRA searching for me than be searching for someone for HYDRA."

The conversation ended as abruptly as it had begun. As Matthews screwed the last plate into the puzzle that was the Soldier's arm, she raised her eyes and saw that the assassin was gazing at her. She lowered her tools and waited, praying that he would find mercy somewhere in the heart HYDRA had stained black. He slowly stood and then stretched his metal hand out toward her.


	10. Chapter 10

All was confusion and pain and despair. His hate would have increased tenfold, but he reasoned that what Steve has said on the Helicarrier had to be true. And if he had been friends with someone as courageous and sacrificial as Steve, then he must have been honorable in his life before HYDRA. As far as the Soldier knew, honorable men did not feed off of Hate. No, their goodness and their valiant actions came from somewhere else, but he did not know where. So he tried to ignore the darkness, tried to escape his one desire.

HYDRA's headquarters would be easy for him to infiltrate. He could massacre dozens of people before he was contained. Two thoughts stayed his hand. Chances were that once he was caught, he would not be killed. HYDRA would simply do as they had always done. They would start with a clean slate and send him out on missions again. The second thought was that, though he was well aware that he had murdered many times, he could not remember who he had killed or how. He could imagine all sorts of ways he had done his job, but the memory wipes had cleansed his brain of specific memories. If he devastated HYDRA headquarters, and they did not kill him, they had the option of _not_ putting him on more missions. They could let him rot away in his cell with his memories, his only memories—that of a one-sided battle with an old friend, a naive doctor who wanted to help, and HYDRA flowing with blood.

Those were not the only memories the Soldier wanted. He realized that he did not want to waste the gift Matthews had given him. And he did not want any more blood on his hands, whether it was the blood of HYDRA or not.

The Soldier wished the jacket Matthews had brought had had a liner in it. He was cold, but then, being cold was almost comforting. Or it had been. Coldness was one of those things that had never left him during his time with HYDRA. He had been cold since he had fallen off the train in the mountains. He had been sure he was going to die in the snow and ice. It would have been better for a lot of people if he had. The experiments that had been done on him had cooled his veins and filled his heart with frost. He had been preserved in ice. He had lived in a chair made of steel. He slipped the fingers of his right hand under the sleeve of the jacket and felt the metal of the arm. It was cold as well, of course. Winter had killed the friend Steve had known and then given birth to the Soldier. He was Winter's son.


	11. Chapter 11

Anna was getting a little bored. They had been in this place for what seemed like all day. There was so much to look at that it was overwhelming. Well, it hadn't been at first, but now that it was dinnertime and her tummy was growling, Anna thought the Spirit of St. Louis might take off from where it was suspended from the ceiling or that the Apollo 11 command module thingy might decide to pop back into space, and then they'd have to dig themselves out of what was left of the building before they could find something to eat. When Tommy requested that they stop at the Captain America exhibit, Anna almost complained, but her dad seemed so excited that she decided she wanted to see it too. Besides, all the kids at school loved Cap and she wanted to see why. Once they were inside the exhibit, though, Anna got bored all over again. The mannequins looked cool in their costumes, but there was too much writing, and she wasn't that good with the big words yet.

"You hungry, honey?" Anna's mom asked her.

"Yeah, and tired. But I was wondering... what's this Captain America guy got to do with space?" she asked.

Her mom smiled. "You know what? I have no clue. But your dad and Tommy love him. It won't take long to go through this, and then we can eat. I'm hungry too."

Anna sighed and glanced around looking for her brother, but she recognized one of her favorite words on a display and headed over to it. Another guy was standing in front of the display.

"Bucky Barnes," Anna said.

"What?" said the man.

"That guy is Bucky Barnes," she repeated, pointing at the photo. "I don't know much about him, but I like his name. I have a stuffed deer at home that I call Bucky."

The man said nothing, and Anna turned her attention from the display to him. He was wearing a jacket and had both hands stuck in the pockets like he was cold or something. He had on a baseball cap, and his hair was long and sort of raggedy looking, but he seemed nice. She thought his eyes looked sad. She touched his arm and motioned at Bucky Barnes.

"You know that guy?" she asked.

He did not stop looking at the photo. "He's been dead a long time, kid. I don't know him."

"Well, I guess it's okay to be sad about him, mister. He was a good guy."

His sad eyes gazed down at her. "How do you know that?"

Anna laughed. "He's in the Captain America exhibit! Everyone knows Captain America's a good guy! So if he hung out with Captain America, he must have been one of the good guys too!"

The man didn't respond, but he lowered his head while she watched him. She realized that she had seen him somewhere before and scratched her head, trying to remember. That was when her dad came up behind her. "You found Bucky, Anna!" he exclaimed, catching her up in his arms. "He was always my favorite."

"Why, Daddy?"

"Without Bucky Barnes, Steve Rogers would have been nothing. Every guy needs a best friend, someone to go to war with, and that's what Bucky was for Cap." Anna's dad put her down again, and she stood between him and the man with the sad eyes.

"See?" Anna said to the man. "Told you he was a good guy." She peered up into his face, squinting and wondering why museums were always so dark. "Hey," she said. "You kinda look like him. Actually, you look a lot like him, doesn't he, Daddy!" She grabbed for her dad's hand, but he was trying to get Tommy on the correct side of the cord protecting the mannequins.

"Are you him?" she asked the man.

His lips moved, but no sound came out at first. Then he whispered, "I wish I could be."

"Anna, we gotta go!" called her mom.

"Goodbye, mister!" Anna said, but there was no one there.


	12. Chapter 12

Bucky Barnes cried. He could not remember if he had ever cried before. An assassin would never show such weakness, so, defying the assassin, he wept. He wanted to be Bucky Barnes again with every fragment of his heart.

His knelt before the little reflecting pool that was part of the World War II Memorial. The gold stars blurred in his eyes, and he subconsciously read the inscription: _Here we mark the price of freedom_. Bucky was certain that many men from the greatest generation had wept here before these stars, but none of them had been in their youth, as his body was. He too had scars—just as many as any of the old soldiers. Bucky reached toward the stars, each one representing one hundred American deaths in World War II, and wished that he could have been numbered among them.

The tears washed away bits of hate, bitterness, and rage, but Bucky wasn't sure he would be able to completely weed them out of his soul even if he lived another ninety years. He wept for James Buchanan Barnes and his parents and the Howling Commandos. He wept as he recalled the rough way he had pulled Steve from the Potomac and abandoned him there on the shore. He wept for those he had killed for HYDRA and wished he could dig his heart out of his chest and chisel away at the ice that encased it.

"These are the cries of someone who was there."

Bucky straightened to find an old man in a wheelchair beside him. It was long past dusk, and he had not expected anyone to be there. The cap the man wore said he had belonged to the crew of the USS Maryland, and Bucky realized that he could remember seeing the name of that ship in headlines about the attack on Pearl Harbor. A brief glimpse told Bucky that the man had favored his right foot for many years, indicating that he had lost his left in the war, although the prosthetic leg would camouflage this fact to any casual observer. Bucky supposed that here was a man who had seen just as much death as he had, if not more. The man pondered Bucky's tired face for a moment before turning his attention to the Freedom Wall. His eyes glistened. "You're a little young to have been there, son," he said. "But if Steve Rogers is still around and looking as dapper as I did in '41, I don't see why there couldn't be two of you." He reached out a feeble hand and rested it on Bucky's arm. "Your tears don't lie. I know those tears. I have cried them many times."

Bucky was bewildered and exhausted, but the old man's words comforted him. He took the man's hand in his and bowed over it until his forehead pressed against his wrinkled fingers. He said nothing and neither did the faded sailor—they just cried together for all they had seen, done, and lost.


	13. Chapter 13

Matthews had been looking over her shoulder for almost four months, constantly wondering if a sleeper agent was following her and whether or not she would live to see the next day. Finding out Alexander Pierce was dead did little to squelch her concerns. The day everything had fallen apart for both SHIELD and HYDRA had been simply that. Falling apart. What falls apart can be put back together, and that is what ate away at Aurora Matthews. HYDRA was disorganized, not disbanded. She was sure there were people within its ranks that would not forgive the woman who had helped the Winter Soldier go rogue. Sometimes she chided herself for remaining in D.C., but HYDRA had crept all over the globe, so, she figured, why did it matter what city she died in? They would find her eventually.

She had taken a job at the Walter Reed Medical Center. Her work there was a healing balm after what she had done for HYDRA. She had been recruited by HYDRA against her wishes. They had watched her advance through her studies at Yale and had pounced on her before she had even graduated, threatening her with death if she did not acquiesce. She knew now that it had been silly to do what they demanded. If she had disappeared before stepping through the doors at Headquarters, they would have let her go. She was nothing but lost potential. But now she knew too many secrets about HYDRA's favorite assassin. She was worth everything, or, she supposed she was, but after weeks and weeks of being afraid of walking down the street, she was letting her guard down, and she didn't care. She could not continue to live in fear.

Being at Walter Reed was a bit ironic since SHIELD often sent Captain Rogers to visit with the service-members. Matthews admired the way he treated the patients as the heroes. They were heroes, of course, but they didn't think so. They had merely done their duty. They had that notion in common with Rogers—he shied away from the limelight as much as possible. Matthews hadn't noticed at first, but she found herself pondering joining SHIELD more often than she would like. It wasn't possible—not after her involvement with HYDRA and the Winter Soldier. SHIELD would probably consider her a spy.

Another surprisingly recurring thought was about the Winter Soldier. She kept trying to think of him as Bucky Barnes, but the name didn't match with the man she had worked on. Matthews hoped he had remembered what he needed to. She didn't worry about his safety or health. Unlike her, he could completely vanish from anyone's radar and was strong enough to survive anything HYDRA could conjure up.

One night, after a particularly long and grueling shift at Walter Reed, Matthews boarded the red line Metro. She sank into a seat on the last car and closed her eyes. She was half asleep at the next stop and did not see the lone man step onto her car, nor did she observe the three others who joined him at the next station.

"Let's have a bit of fun with the doctor before we off her," snickered a low voice, and it was this sentence that cut through the fog in Matthews' mind and stirred her from her drowsiness instantly. Her brain rushed with options; she had no doubt that these four men, the only people on the car, had been sent to kill her.

They had been part of the Winter Soldier's guard detail, and Matthews remembered three of their names. They were greedy, nondescript mercenaries who were only part of HYDRA so that they could kill. Two of them were Russian: Yury and Alexei, and the other one with the deep voice was called Fox. The fourth Matthews did not recognize. She didn't waste energy wondering why it had taken so long for them to track her down or why they had sent four when one probably could have done the trick. Her old coworkers closed in, and she realized that her brain had calculated her options and had found them all wanting. There was nothing she could do but hope they would reach the next station before she was dead.

"Got a little thing for assassins, baby?" the unknown man said jeeringly. "_I'm_ an assassin! Why don't you help _me_ escape the clutches of HYDRA?"

"Please!" Matthews muttered, rolling her eyes. She resisted the urge to assure the man that he did not fit HYDRA's definition of an assassin, knowing she would pay for it. Her eye roll cost her enough. The HYDRA agent grabbed her hair and pulled back, exposing her neck to a dull looking blade that Fox brandished.

The car screeched and lurched, throwing all five of them to the floor. The knife flew out of Fox's hand. Matthews scrambled for it, but Alexei immediately hoisted her to her feet by a fistful of her coat and hair. As she gained her footing, she noticed that the car was slowing down. Her heart surged with hope anew, and she looked up thinking they had reached a station. The car had detached itself from the rest of the train and was losing speed quickly. Fox swore.

"You mean... you didn't do that?" Matthews asked, confused. The agents didn't answer but it was clear by their dumb expressions that they'd had nothing to do with it. Exhaustion and despair gripped Matthews again. There was no escaping HYDRA now.

"Check it," Fox ordered. The self-proclaimed "assassin" sneered but obeyed and headed toward the front of the car.

Matthews was now being held at gunpoint, and Yury, in a thick Russian accent, demanded, "Where is the Winter Soldier?"

"Heck if I know!" she snapped. "Isn't that something HYDRA so happily trained him to do? Disappear at will?"

The choice words Fox began spewing at her were interrupted by a horrific ripping sound and a scream. The door at the front of the car was gone. It had not been opened; it had been torn from its hinges, and Matthews heard it crash into the rails. The car jerked to a stop. There was no sign of the wanna-be assassin. In his place stood the Winter Soldier. He did not hesitate but strode toward the agents and Matthews, his determined gait mirroring the confidence he had always displayed as he left Headquarters on his way to a mission. His tactical gear had been repaired. Any injuries he had sustained on the Helicarrier had long since healed. He was heavily armed, and as he approached, the agents unhanded Matthews and straightened, almost as if they were standing at attention.

_Naturally_, Matthews thought, _they had the same training I did. They know they don't stand a chance against this guy if they try anything. _But then she feared that their submission might be because the Soldier was in league with them. If he had been caught, then _she_ could be his mission. When he drew his sidearm and aimed it at Fox, she flinched. From what she had been told of the Soldier, he should have fired at the agent already if he meant to kill him. No shot came. The two other agents stood between the Soldier and Matthews, and he shoved the Yury with such ferocity that he smashed through the car window and into the night. Alexei and Fox stepped out of the way.

"I'm glad to see your arm is in good working order," Matthews said, not sure if she was about to die or be rescued.

The Soldier remained silent and turned his gun upon the other agents. Matthews saw a flash of metal, felt his hand hit her neck, and everything went black.


	14. Chapter 14

Steve Rogers stood in the shower, basking in the warmth of the water. Sometimes he wished he could stay in the shower for hours, but far be it from him to waste so much water when others in the world were dying for a sip. It had been a long day at the Triskelion. With Nick Fury trying to locate the remaining HYDRA cells, SHIELD was left in the hands of a Senate sub-committee who made it difficult for Steve and Natasha to accomplish anything. Steve was stuck in the middle, trying to keep Natasha cool and collected while they both attempted to reason with the committee. Natasha's version of reasoning wasn't the kind that would get them any points with the already skeptical government.

Steve was rinsing off when he thought he heard the doorbell. Only a few seconds later, he was sure he heard it again. He stopped the water and hurriedly dried off just as someone began banging on his door. He was wrapping his towel around his waist when he heard a giant crash. More irritated than alarmed, Steve walked into his living room and confirmed his suspicions. His front door had been forced open. He peered into his dark living room and made out the form of a man laying a woman's body on his sofa.

"I was coming!" Steve offered, making no effort to hide the annoyance in his voice. The SHIELD agents were getting too bold. "Was there something wrong with a phone call?"

"Yeah," answered the man, "I didn't have your number." He turned, his face exposed by the hall light, and Steve took a step back.

"Bucky..." he said.

Bucky offered nothing in response which saddened Steve. Bucky had been the talkative one back in the day, but he still didn't look like Bucky. He had remained as HYDRA had formed him. Bucky appeared exactly as he had that day on the Helicarrier. The only difference was his eyes. They weren't dead as they had been during their battle; there was light in them, but it was a mournful, somber light.

"Is she alive?" Steve motioned at the woman.

Bucky indicated she was with the slightest of nods.

"Then I'll be right back." Steve went to his room and put on a T-shirt and sweatpants, his mind reeling. After Nick Fury had left, Steve had planned to find Bucky, but SHIELD had badly needed representation by people other than the committee, by people who cared about what became of the organization. He certainly hadn't expected Bucky to come to him, armed and dangerous, and carrying an unknown woman.

Steve sat on the edge of his bed and looked at his reflection in the mirror. He saw the same face he had seen back in 1941, a face he prayed represented freedom, courage, and goodness. But what did freedom and courage and goodness mean in the new millennium? What did these words mean to the man in his living room who had once been his best friend? Steve wasn't sure he wanted to find out. Nothing indicated that Bucky was not set to kill him except that he'd used the front door and he hadn't attempted anything yet. _What is truth? _Steve asked himself the age old question, and steeled himself for his conversation with Bucky.


	15. Chapter 15

**Sorry for the delay, guys. I had this written a while ago but wanted to go over it one more time. Things must be perfect for my readers! :) Many thanks to **Thalion Estel **and** JuliaAurelia **for their continued support.**

Bucky stood exactly where Steve had left him, directly in front of the sofa as if he was guarding the woman he had placed there.

"Who is she?"

"Doctor Aurora Matthews," Bucky answered quickly. There was an awkward silence until he offered more. "She betrayed HYDRA by digging their tracking device out of my arm."

"If she's a friend, why is she unconscious?"

For the first time, a smile turned up a corner of Bucky's mouth. He glanced at Matthews and then back at Steve. "I got her here a lot faster than I would have if she'd been awake," he smirked.

Steve couldn't help but chuckle. Knocking someone out to rescue them was exactly the sort of thing Bucky would have done when they had worked together with the Howling Commandos. He relaxed a little. He almost offered a seat to Bucky but realized he wouldn't take it, and Steve still didn't trust him enough to let him have the upper hand physically. It was as if Bucky sensed the conflict within him and could tell Steve wanted everything to be normal again. He cautiously reached for his two pistols, unloaded them, and offered them to Steve. Then he pulled two semi-automatic rifles from his back and the ammo from his belt and handed them over as well.

"I won't need these for a while..." Bucky said. He surveyed the layout of the apartment with an expert eye, and licked his lips. Steve bet he felt naked without all his weapons. He was surprised when his friend spoke again. "You got a change of clothes I could borrow?"

Steve led Bucky to his bedroom, found him another Tshirt and sweatpants, and left him to change. He double checked that Bucky's guns were unloaded and the safeties were on before depositing them and the ammunition in the hall closet.

"Captain Rogers?" came a weak voice from the sofa.

Steve helped Matthews sit up and smiled at her. "Yeah. Bucky told me who you were, although I believe I've seen you before."

Matthews yawned and stretched, squinting her eyes against the light. "Walter Reed. On your patient visits."

"That's right. Well, Dr. Matthews, is there anything I can get you? Some water?"

"My friends call me Rory."

"And mine call me Steve."

When Bucky reappeared in the living room, Steve smiled. "All you need is a haircut, and you'll-" He cut himself off, embarrassed at where his thoughts automatically led him.

Bucky frowned. "It'll take more than a haircut to make him Bucky Barnes again." He spoke without emotion just as anyone would about someone he did not know or care about.

Uncomfortable silence fell across the room. Steve and Bucky wouldn't sit down, and Matthews couldn't get up. Disappointment flooded Steve's mind. "What are you two doing here anyway?" he asked sharply.

Bucky glared at him like he should know, but, seeing as Steve wasn't privy to the reason for their presence, Matthews spoke up. "I believe the correct term is 'sanctuary'."

"What?" Steve flopped into an armchair and closed his eyes. He hadn't prepared himself mentally for this confrontation or whatever it was. He wanted to go to bed and sleep for a very long time. He wasn't cut out for politics and saying what people wanted to hear instead of what they needed to hear. Having to step into a mediator role made him miss Nick Fury more than ever. "You're on the run from HYDRA, I hope. Either that or you're here to kill me."

"The doctor needs protection," Bucky said, a hint of anger in his voice. "Where else could I have taken her?"

"And you?" Steve leaned forward in his chair, and stared at Bucky. "What do you need?"

Bucky's eyebrows lowered and his fists clenched. Matthews struggled to her feet, whispered something to him, and then turned to Steve. "Can I talk to you... alone?" she asked. Steve couldn't believe it, but she seemed angry too. He hesitated and looked at Bucky, who sat down on the sofa, refusing to make eye contact with him.


	16. Chapter 16

Steve led Matthews into his bedroom and was surprised by the amount of energy she suddenly displayed.

"How idiotic can you be?" she hissed, jabbing her finger into his chest. "That man has belonged to HYDRA for _eighty years_, and you're going to hold a grudge against him? You don't belittle him, you just... you don't do that! Do you have a death wish, Captain Rogers? Because if you continue acting as you have thus far, the Winter Soldier will kill you before Bucky even has a chance to exist again! For Pete's sake!"

Steve admired Matthews. Very few people would talk to him so bluntly. He also resented her, however, because apparently she was much better acquainted with Bucky than he was. "And what makes you such an expert on Bucky?" he almost shouted.

Matthews put her finger to her lips and widened her eyes in warning. "Keep your voice down! I've been on the Winter Soldier's team for five years, Captain. There are rules that must be obeyed in relation to that man in your living room, and you are breaking every one."

Steve considered what she had said a moment, but he was overcome by conflicting emotions. This doctor who was trembling with anger before him at his treatment of Bucky had been one of his handlers. Surely Steve deserved to be indignant with someone who had maintained HYDRA's secret weapon. On the other hand, she had risked everything to do something that hadn't even occurred to Steve. She had released Bucky from HYDRA's grasp. Steve wasn't sure he would have had the courage to do it had he been in her situation. Approaching a wounded and confused killer after a failed assassination attempt had to be one of the most dangerous things a person, a female no less, could do.

"Then teach me," Steve said quietly, putting his hands on the doctor's shoulders both to show that he had calmed and to help her do the same. "I don't want to push him away."

Bucky thought of nothing. He had to cope. He had to survive. He could not think now. Thinking would either send him into some sort of relapse where he would kill Steve Rogers with his bare arms or he would collapse into a miserable, sobbing fool. Neither of these options was what he wanted. He didn't know what he wanted except to be left alone.

_He's so naive to think he can just pick up with me where we left off..._ Bucky shook his head as if to clear his brain and concentrated on nothing again.

"And what makes you such an expert on Bucky?"

Bucky closed his eyes and drowned out the voices coming from the bedroom. _No one is an expert on Bucky. No one is an expert on the Winter Soldier_. _Who am I? Who am I_? When Bucky opened his eyes, he found his metal fist lodged in Steve's coffee table. He had such violent tendencies and sometimes he wasn't even aware when they were there or how he reacted to them. He used his other hand to jerk the left one out of the coffee table and brushed splinters off the metal workings of his arm.

Matthews was giving Steve How to Behave in the Presence of the Winter Soldier 101. Their voices were lowered but that made little difference. Bucky could hear every word. He stood up, kicked Steve's front door back into place, and shut himself outside. Not that he could really go anywhere with the HYDRA arm exposed for all to see. At least he couldn't hear Steve and Matthews anymore. He slid to the floor and leaned his head back against the wall, eyes closed. He knew he would look serene to anyone who saw him, but his mind was anything but serene.


End file.
